


Dust and Devils on My Conscience

by Electra_XT



Series: Close Encounters [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sibling Incest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Electra_XT/pseuds/Electra_XT
Summary: Five knew the exact line of the exact page where the Handler had detailed that time-jumping powers were a privilege, not a right, and time-stopping powers were forbidden from being used byanybodybut licensed personnel.





	Dust and Devils on My Conscience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [achilleees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/gifts).

> Big thanks to bismuthBallistics for the beta!
> 
> Title from "Chasing Twisters" by Delta Rae.

Number Five had read the Rules and Guidelines of Best Practices of the Commission of Temps Aeternalis five times back to front while waiting for the bombs to drop at Pearl Harbor. This meant that Five knew the exact line of the exact page where the Handler had detailed that time-jumping powers were a privilege, not a right, and time-stopping powers were forbidden from being used by _anybody_ but licensed personnel.

Five also knew that he was the best agent the Commission had ever had, and that he’d been known to change the Handler’s mind before.

Call it paid leave. A needed vacation. Window-shopping. Every few disasters he’d circle back— sometimes he’d over-jump and face their deaths again or under-jump and still be unfortunately alive, but this time Five had measured it perfectly. 2015. They’d gone separate ways, but they were still adults, and a critical mass still remained in the city. As Five climbed the stairs to the upstairs level of the Academy, his mind turned to the person most likely to lead him to the others.

Luther had his own study now. Five supposed it was only fair, given that everyone else had hightailed it out of the house by now. Or had they? He always meant to go back and check through their lives in chronological order, but no one could begrudge him skipping to the highlights. Five approached Luther’s desk. The shades behind him were half-lowered and the sun was half-down in the sky, bathing everything in half-light. Luther was sitting hunched in his chair, elbows resting on the richly polished wood, notebooks and paper fanning out in front of him in a hopeless cascade. Above the open page of the nearest notebook, Luther’s hand was poised with a fountain pen. A blob of ink hung about to fall. Five reached out and wiped it from the nib, peering upside-down at the paper.

In general, Luther wrote in cursive. Five never could fathom why, given that Luther had to carefully detangle the letters when he was solving equations anyway, but the heading of this notebook page was printed in block capitals. Dry ink, like Luther had written it an infinite length of time ago:

_OVERARCHING MISSION: Restore Academy Team_

Five shook his head.

The rest of the page was filled with cursive.

_3— Hollywood. She’s doing well. Reconnaissance remains a priority as we ascertain the likelihood of supernatural involvement in career in marriage. If proof can be found of tampering, save. Come back to this._

_4— lost cause in some ways, but physically easy. Recently released from prison. Next overdose, bring back to Academy. Nurse back to health. Gratitude, attachment, etc. Raise him again— if necessary, take advantage of addictive tendencies? Dad says look into Stockholm Syndrome._

_I looked. Will bring up with him questions of morality and methods._

_I am unsure if any of this will work._

_????_

And then a free-body diagram, some penmanship studies, a handmade Sudoku that Luther probably didn’t realize was unsolvable, and a few lines of Yeats. Five pinched the corner of the page and flipped it as gingerly as if it were a biohazard.

_Closed cases: 5, 6, 7._

Five frowned. He peered under Luther’s suspended hand until he found what he was looking for.

_2: Fighting Line Boxing,_ said the paper in Luther’s handwriting. _Try talking to him again._

The sight of a boxing gym in suspended animation was simultaneously hideous and mesmerizing. Bags in midair, fighters frozen mid-punch so they were almost embracing, a woman’s fist contorted against a vinyl target. Five reflected briefly on the beauty of a single moment in which no collision could be elastic, but quickly filed the thought away, because he had all the time in the world to think about that, really. He slipped between bodies, noting with distaste the miasma of sweat that hung in the air as he made his way down the stairs to the basement.

The door to the boiler room was unlocked. Five entered like a ghost.

Diego lay propped against the headboard, head leaned back, one hand cupped in his lap, cradling something. Five stepped closer until he could see exactly what Diego was gripping in his hand.

Five snorted. It sounded like a gunshot in the vacuum. Of course he’d managed to time his visit to find Diego in this private moment of indulgence. Delores would laugh at him when he got back, wouldn’t she? The thrill of jerking off in the plain air of the desolate wasteland had worn off approximately seventy-two hours after he’d thought of it at the age of thirteen. It wasn’t that Five didn’t allow himself to yield to tactile pleasures anymore, but he’d arrived in the apocalypse when the mere idea of masturbation was enough to send him into a brief rapture, and now literally nothing would be new ever again. 

Five stood for a moment, watching him. Then he moved over and settled himself next to Diego, letting himself absorb the warmth of his body.

Diego’s cock was hard and hot. Five gently pried Diego’s hand off and set it to the side as he replaced it with his own fingers, curling around the shaft and squeezing. He’d handle this for him. Inside himself, some dried-up instinct of kindness stirred, woozy with the novelty of doing something for someone else for a change.

It didn’t take long. Diego was apparently practically there already, and Five clenched his fingers harder around his cock to keep them from shaking. He reminded himself that Diego wouldn’t notice or care. That only made it worse. Five jerked him in capable strokes, as efficient and competent as Number Five ever was, until Diego went imperceptibly rigid underneath him and came, spattering over his hand.

Five plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table. He methodically wiped away every trace of mess, leaning over to the wastebasket beside the bed and discarding the tissue. He tucked Diego’s soft cock back into his jeans and did up his fly, tugging his sweater back down as well.

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out with two fingers and closed Diego’s eyes. He looked like he needed all the sleep he could get. Five manhandled him down onto the bed until he lay half-prone and he tugged the blanket over him. In theory, he could also undo Diego’s shoes and place them down next to the bed, but he figured that Diego was used to passing out with all his clothes on, and he probably intended to wake up for patrol at God-knew-when anyway. Five crawled off the bed and surveyed his handiwork.

He could stay like this forever. Five entertained the brief thought of huddling in the basement of the gym forever with Diego warm beside him. He’d never do it. Diego was no inanimate object like Delores. He wasn’t meant to be captive, and neither was Five, and Five closed his eyes for a single moment of mourning before he turned around and walked up the stairs to the door. He took a deep breath and reached for the light switch. The room went black. 

Five snapped his fingers, and he disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> [electra-xt](https://electra-xt.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, taking prompts, come talk to me about TUA!


End file.
